[Intro: PackofRats]
Be a peach
More tongue and less teeth
Yeah, yeah
It's Rat, y'all
What you know about that?
Nah

[Hook: MF DOOM]
Citizen to god, damnit
Came to make them sick like some thick hot clam spit
Lit this brick toxic ham bit
Vic the mic quicker on some pick your pocket scam
Citizen to god, damnit
Came to make them sick like some thick hot clam spit
Lit this brick toxic ham bit
Vic the mic quicker on some pick your pocket scam
Citizen to god, damnit
Came to make them sick like some thick hot clam spit
Lit this brick toxic ham bit
Vic the mic quicker on some pick your pocket scam
Citizen to god, damnit
Came to make them sick like somе thick hot clam spit
Lit this brick toxic ham bit
Vic the mic quicker on some pick your pockеt scam
[Verse 1: [?]]
I got a part-time gig
And I do it better than these cartoon kids
Working hard at they full time thing (What that mean?)
So that means I'm the cleaner man
Sorta like Superman, holla and I'm [?]
Fumbling a [?] of shit
I hate bragging [?], yo
I kinda got a big dick
So I'm contempt when little n***as pose off and chat 'bout [?]
Yeah this is big dog [?] accident, dent ya
And not a fender bender, uh-uh
His momma deal with Plastic Little, leave you brittle
So just ask us or just trust us
Plastic pickle nuts touch your nose and chin
Cinnamon scented, yo smell it
The girls tell me it's cocoa butter flavored
Ones you can't get, won't even fuck with
I grip 'em up and tuck em in a n***a-nannie split
Pantie's open on the regular, yes sir
Fuck this I got women to dress
Checks to cut and interns to get
Enjoy them hip-hop social security checks

[Verse 2: PackofRats]
Aw, shucks pa
You shoulda spent that on Trimspa
Emcees think they Grey Goose
But they just Vladimir Vodka
Kaka shen, suse pejo?
Sticking crackers for their Zunes or their iPods
PackofRats down on Diagon Alley
I'm copping Weasley's Wheezes
Then I dip to the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer
Yeah, yeah y'all, you know I love it here
I rap this way because I rap this way
I don't give a fuck about your "back in the day"
A fuck about your '93
A fuck about hip-hop
I got tight jeans and a flat top
A girl that loves Brit-pop
Now, what you know about that?
Probably nada, papa
You can't step to me, with mommy's old recipe
Go back to the lab, I'll even pay for the cab
And a new foil mask, PackofRats on that ass
With class and panache
Like the black Boy George that I am
In a Dodge Ram with Coke up in the Philly fitted
Yup, I'm all words, fuck deeds
I'm at home watching BBC laughing at Mr. Bean
He's a funny cracker y'all
[Verse 3: [?]]
Virgo, Zodiac
Peace, love and gat
Grab the same receipts from the snippy snacks [?]
Citing all, I got 'em trapped by the fleece hoodie
Racking 'em all like "where the cypher at y'all?"
Washed up just like Dwight Gooden
Like a bucket full of [?] shit and hot pudding
Yo, disco doughnuts, pills and throw up
[?] ill trill y'all, it's a holdup
I'm on the moon rappin', getting space head
From a ill three titty spaced bass-head
My magic 808 is gold-plated homie
It spits flames and DJs repeat me homie
I'm on the beat, two, three homie
You want to see a little peak, you gotta pay
I gotta eat homie
I'm on the beat homie
So be a peach and tell your girl
She needs a better technique
More tongue and less teeth